


Wings.

by All_The_Love_For_Hyuckle



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: All the members are renamed and now you have to figure out who's who for yourself hrhrhr, Angst, F/M, Full NCT Ensemble, Inspired by The Butterfly Garden, Kidnapping, M/M, Make it a tragic love story smh, Maybe if you guys want we can add pairings, Minor Character Death, Oh yeah lots of rape I'm sorry but it normally isn't graphic, On Hiatus, Psychological Horror, Tattoos, dark?, i'll add more tags as i write, possible gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_The_Love_For_Hyuckle/pseuds/All_The_Love_For_Hyuckle
Summary: The Garden; a lush place surrounded by flowers, with a small cliff that drips water into a pond below.The Gardener; the woman who tends to the creatures and life that dwells in the garden.The Butterflies; over twenty gorgeous young men stolen from home and taken to the garden to keep the gardener company."Beauty has never looked so terrifying." -Dot Hutchison





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfiction, so wish me luck. I am a l w a y s open to constructive criticism, and I want to learn how to improve my writing, so I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> In case you didn't read all of the tags, this is heavily inspired by Dot's The Butterfly Garden, which I highly recommend. 
> 
> The protagonist of the story is a member of NCT, and I'd love to see if anyone who reads this can guess who it is!

_Wings,_ he thinks to himself as he stares at the reflection shown to him through his compact mirror, _How ironic._

The outline stretched from shoulder to shoulder, curving around his deltoids before returning to his spine, where the body that held the wings was placed. The antenna that he saw coming off of the inked insect stretched up to his neck, spiraling around his skin and ending at the top of his spine. Tilting the mirror just enough to cast the reflection down a few angles, he notices that the tattoo’s outline doesn’t end at his back, and travels further down past the waistband of his pants- the stinging sensation that indicated his healing already told him that, though.

Sasha told him that the shower in his room won’t come on until 7:30, as each butterfly has a designated shower time, but he truly has no idea how to stop the inflaming sensation on his back. He wonders how many more nights he’ll feel the ghost of the needles that stole his day from him earlier, but realizes that in the end, it doesn’t matter.

That wasn’t the only thing that was stolen from him anyways.

The butterfly initiation generally takes about three weeks, as the Gardener tattoos your breed on your back, names you, and claims you as hers for good- or, at least that’s what Sasha told him.

Sasha’s the only one who’s really been helpful to him so far- not that he’s sure that there are any other butterflies that exist here except them.

Sasha claims that right now there’s almost a full case, but the amount of visitors that have come to his barren room tell him otherwise. He sighs quietly, hoping his exhale will somehow take his emotions and throw them out the window- speaking of which, _why doesn’t his room have windows?_ -He doesn’t know, he’ll have to ask Sasha later, but until his new acquaintance pays him a visit, he decides to make the most of his time and sleep.  
  


_//Don’t tell me your name, it has no worth here in the Garden. It’ll only make things harder for you, okay?_ //

He wakes up cold and he can’t tell if it’s because of the fact that he was only given a fitted sheet as bedding, or if it was because for a moment he actually thought he was dreaming. He sits up, and can already tell that his neck is going to be kinked all day, much to his chagrin.

“Why don’t I have windows, Sasha?” He doesn’t need to look to know that Sasha is in the room with him, when he woke up in the Garden four days ago Sasha promised he’d stay with him in the mornings until after dinner. Apparently most butterflies were drugged at dinner for the first three weeks to help with the breakdowns and the crying, but he had no need for those according to the Gardener.

“It’s.. a safety precaution. We have plenty of windows, just not in the bedrooms.” Sasha sets a set of pants on the foot of his bed.

“No shirt today?”

“No, no shirts anymore. Not for a while at least. She-” He always notices how calm Sasha is when he speaks of the Gardener, it causes a small bubble of unease to fizz up in his chest. “-Thinks it best that while the initiation is taking place, your back doesn’t come in contact with any harsh fabrics. Don’t expect to get a shirt after your tattoo is done though, she likes being able to see our wings.”

Sasha doesn’t turn around to offer him privacy, although he’s not sure what he was expecting, modesty doesn’t seem to be huge around here from what he’s heard.

He grabs the pants and holds them in front of himself by the waistband. They’re surprisingly nice, almost silky, and are pure black through and through. As he slips his legs though and clasps the button, he realizes that the pants actually cuff where they’re supposed to- about, or maybe an inch or so above the ankle. Standing at 5’ 10, and coming from Korea of all places, he’s fairly used to high-waters. They must have come custom, and while he’d appreciate that usually, he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel when they’ve been given to him here.

“You’ll return to the Gardener after lunch today-“

“But I’m not healed.” A surge of panic flows through his veins- _He barely made it through the first session without busting his bottom lip, how can he handle another one?_

Sasha sighs a little and leans against the metal frame that keeps the bed’s front straight. “She isn’t stupid, sadly enough. She knows what she’s doing, she’ll probably go from the insides this time to avoid where you were penned yesterday.” Sasha reaches over and gives the newest butterfly a quick stroke of the ear- a substitute that the new butterfly will learn takes place of hair stroking- and while Sasha does so he can’t help but take in his acquaintance’s beauty. The close proximity allows the unnamed boy to observe Sasha’s bone structure; the high cheekbones that accentuate his naturally wide eyes, the jawline that leads down to his chin which sticks out _just_ enough for it to be attractive, the nose that sits high on his face and makes room for plush lips, all accompanied by clear, glowing skin. Truly, Sasha looked like no other.

 _So what was he doing here?_ He wondered if any of the other butterflies were as attractive as Sasha was- he hadn’t seen anyone else except for the gardener and Sasha, and whenever he was lead anywhere else in the Garden- which had only been two places so far, the tattoo room and the actual garden- he was instructed to keep his eyes closed. He obeyed because he had no reason not to, and by the way Sasha advised him against opening his eyes, he was pretty sure he didn’t actually want to see what he was being shielded from anyways.

He must have spent too long thinking, because Sasha sighs again and shifts his weight off of the bed frame, standing with picture-perfect posture, “I’ll bring you breakfast, we had omelets this morning. Stay here, okay?” Sasha nods once the unnamed butterfly nods and he walks out of the room.

_Damn, He never asked if Sasha had anything to help his back._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy it! In today's chapter, our new butterfly is prepped for his final tattoo session.
> 
> Once again, thank you to my two low-key beta readers, jeonghannuguaegi and Juici_Xuxi.
> 
> Any kudos and comments are always appreciated and I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Enjoy!

The Rhetus Periander, an extremely rare butterfly found by the coast- that was the Gardener's plans for him. The long wingspan matched his broad shoulders, and the length in the bottom wings matched the length in his torso before his hips lead down to long legs. Depending on its gender, the insect had black and blue wings with red markings or splotches along the insides to show contrast. It’s a pretty, subtle little thing until it’s not, and he can almost see how that was the specimen she picked for him. He always liked blue anyways, it was his favorite color, and it was devastating how he could hate something that was so perfect for him. 

He only managed to find out what was on his back, what was going to serve as his new identity, because of Sasha. Once again, the older butterfly was his saving grace, and had taken the butterfly encyclopedia from the library and sat behind him, reading off names and showing illustrations until they found a match. 

Both boys knew that once the gardener actually finished his tattoo that she’d tell him, but Sasha told him that it was their way of beating the gardener, even if it did nothing to subtract from her power. He guessed that he understood the emotions behind that; the sense of empowerment that spurred from knowing something about his new self that wasn’t learned from her. 

He didn’t have long to wait before his specimen was revealed- the only part of his tattoo that wasn’t complete was the red, which was what she would be doing that evening. He couldn’t tell if the knowledge that his initiation was almost complete put him at ease or if it made him weary- probably both. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, which told him that it’s 1:27 A. M. He groaned, disgusted with his body’s inability to sleep and rolled on his side before wincing, as he felt the mattress hug his recently penned skin. 

He examined his room and wondered how many times he’s done so already; the corner holds a small sectioned area with a toilet, sink, and shower head- all without a curtain or any other shield to preserve his privacy, the wall opposite of him is blank, the walls across from him in both directions are blank, and the wall over his head holds nothing but a wooden shelf hooked into the wall. Furniture wise, there were no desks and no dressers, with one tiny nightstand to hold his clock, although his bed had two pull out drawers for storage which he kept his steadily growing collection of pants in. Everything in the room lacked color, but unlike the sterile white walls he always pictured when he thought of being kidnapped, the walls in his room were all gray.

He assumed that gray was a common theme in the garden, as the tattoo room was also gray, and while the actual garden in the garden was made of glass, the tiling that lined all of the floors were gray as well. The doors were metal, and he guessed that matched the gray scheme too. 

Speaking of the doors, he stared at his own, and pondered over their purpose. He no longer was expected to need privacy, as the toilets and the lack of clothing showed, yet each night around nine at night, his door went down, and it lacked a handle, so he was trapped until the door opened at six the next morning. He wondered if the Gardener was actually trying to make him feel better- _If she was, then it wasn’t working._

_//As much as I wish it wasn’t the case, the Gardener truly wants to believe that she loves us.//_

As soon as the door rises Sasha comes in with both a shirt and pants, a rare and new occurrence for the unnamed butterfly.

“Wow, a shirt? Am I dying today?” He snarks out, taking the pants from Sasha and slipping into them, before reaching for the shirt. The coverage is already something he isn’t used to, and he feels more than eager to be fully clothed again.

“You’ll only wish that you died today. The shirt is for later, you’re finishing up your tattoo today and I thought you’d like it for tonight when you come back..” 

_Sasha seems down today,_ he thinks. It’s barely noticeable, and it’s obviously something Sasha wants to hide- it concerns him. He decides he won’t address it. 

“The good news is after this you’ll be allowed to meet the other butterflies. The longer you stay in the garden, the more privileges you’ll get. You’ll be able to come out for meals, and you can go through the halls without covering your eyes-” Sasha’s _rushing today,_ “Oh! And you can also go to my room after this too-“

“Sasha.” Sasha pauses and looks at the blue butterfly. 

“Yes?”

“What’s happening today?”

The new butterfly watches as Sasha’s emotions peek past his helpful façade, “You’ll become hers today. There’s a lot to the garden and it’s dynamic that you haven’t been exposed to yet- these first three weeks have just been to make sure you don’t off yourself.”

The new butterfly nods slowly, “Sasha, thank you for taking care of me, and thank you for warning me.” Sasha's a compassionate person, he knows that for a fact, and they don't even know each other. Not where it counts at least,  _their identities here aren't real._ Not to him, at least. He isn't sure if the sudden connection he's formed with Sasha came from their existence in the garden or not. If they met on the street, would they click in the same way? 

“That’s what I’m here for.. You’re gonna be here for a really, really long time.. and we’re family now, okay? When she gives you your name, tell it to me first.” Sasha tries his hardest to give a comforting smile to the new butterfly, but it never makes it to his eyes. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Today's chapter gives our protagonist a new name, as well as our first look at the Gardener!
> 
> Any comments or kudos are appreciated and I l o v e talking you, so don't hesitate to say hi! If any of you would like to hmu to talk about anything, you can reach me at MDMuses@gmail.com, (because I know that all archive accounts require email so-.) 
> 
> Either way, enjoy!

“You can open your eyes,” It’s a voice he only hears when he’s in the tattoo room- which is where he is now. “Thank you, Sasha, you can leave us be now.” He hears the Gardener dismiss him, which is normal, but as always, is the most upsetting part of their sessions together. He wonders how much easier the entire process would have been if Sasha was there with him. Cold air hits the palm of his hand as Sasha leaves, and the loud sound of the metal door sliding down behind him rings in his ears, only reiterating the Gardener’s presence.

He notices the metal remote in the gardener’s hand.

_So that’s how the doors shut, huh._

“Come, strip yourself and then lay down, we’re going to finish up today. Once we’re done you’ll have no need to come back into this room.” The Gardener’s tone always makes it seem like she doesn’t want to cause him any more pain than necessary, as if she’s searching for the best in their situation.

She’s the one who trapped him there, in the garden, and his stomach twists at the contrast between her words and her actions.

He complies despite his unease and strips himself of his low-rise pants, which he wore in hopes that he wouldn’t have to expose himself, but as always, the gardener didn’t care. Or maybe she cared in the wrong way. They both knew that he didn’t _have_ to take off his pants for her to get to his lower back where his bottom wings were anyways. He lies on a flat, metal table and feels every inch of his chest, stomach, genitalia, thighs, and shins flinch against the cold surface. He knows that it was purposefully inflicted by the gardener not only to even out the stinging sensation on his back, but to also keep his nipples pert when he sat back up for her viewing.

After an indistinguishable amount of time, he feels the scratching sensation on his lower back stop, which is quickly replaced by the faint burning that rips along his opened skin that he’s come so familiarized with. The room becomes heavy with silence now that the machine is off. But a sense of dread fills his being because he can’t help but wonder _what now?_

“You look so lovely…” He prefers the needle over her hands, he learns that as he can feel her rub at his back, slowly going lower as she traces the abdomen of the butterfly before lightly fingering over the base of his bottom wings. “Have you taken the time to look at your butterfly yet?... It’s breathtaking, the hindwings fall back so beautifully.” His back becomes his thighs, and he can feel the choice, _wait or stay,_ bouncing around in his suddenly empty skull. The metal table isn’t the only reason why he’s cold anymore.

_You’ll become hers today_ , Sasha told him.

Should he fight back? _Can he fight back?_

Living in Korea for most of his life, he was used to small figured women; the Gardener’s figure was anything but small. She was probably double his bodyweight- not that he was very heavy to begin with- but he couldn’t tell just how much of that weight came from fat, and how much of the rest of it was muscle. He didn’t really care to know either. She stood at a staggering height, what he could probably guess was at least six feet, so despite his great physique outside of the Garden walls, while he was with the Gardener he was measly.

Weak.

_Unable to fight back_.

“When I visit Sasha, he tells me that you never cry, never get mad- you just sit, well behaved.” She sounds proud of him, he realized, and the bottom of his stomach clenches and coils in disgust. He doesn’t want to please her, but apparently the indifference is appreciated.

She pats his bum twice and his eyes hinge shut at the contact. He begins to develop his idea of what’s to come, and receiving a new name is now the least of his concerns. The Gardener sits him up and gently swings his legs over to dangle off the long edge of the table, before carding through his hair and smiling at him.

“Welcome to the Garden, Damien.”

His eyes widen as he watches her remove the sleek black trousers from her pan suit, which confirms all which he was afraid of. She steps closer to him as she discards other articles from her outfit, before her hand reaches for his cock and _Oh God, just one hand wraps around him entirely_.

The time spent in and out of the Gardener is impossible to forget but easy to avoid.

Over and over she screamed his name, like a mantra, until her vocal folds were damaged and his eyes were dry. He wondered if it would be possible to tell Sasha his name later without her abuse surfacing in his mind, rippling all the memories right back to his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I took inspiration from Diamond Interchange in the Metamorphoses series by technoculture for Sasha's character. The series is absolutely incredible and by far one of my favorites on this site, so please go check it out!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, this is late! I'm supposed to post on Mondays but I was a bit taken yesterday so I didn't have much of a chance.  
> Also, note that this is a short chapter (somehow shorter than my normal, dunno how considering they're already so small T^T) and serves almost as a set-up or a filler for what's to come.
> 
> So yeah, it's small, and it's late, but it's at least something!  
> Shoutout to my beta for today's chapter, @jeonghannuguaegi
> 
> Enjoy

The taste of vomit lingers at the back of his palette as he re-enters his room after his time with the Gardener.

The Gardener had left him thirty minutes previous, but it took him just as long to recollect himself and drag his used body back to his dorm. Now that he’s in the fibbing comfort of his room, he realizes that that was the first time that he had to get back by himself- the first time he had actually spent in the hallways. He doesn’t understand Sasha’s concerns though, the walls in the hallway were undecorated, a plain metal slate identical to the doors that stretched from entryway to entryway. 

The clock tells him that it’s 7:21 P.M., also known as nine-minutes-too-early for his shower, but he can’t spare the nine extra minutes. Damien strips himself of his pants, tossing them in the corner- he hopes he’ll be brave enough to deal with them later. Stalking over to his not-so-private bathroom, he turns on the sink, and begins to wash her cum off of him. It’s awkward, standing over the sink like that and he knows that if it’s not the Gardener that monitors the cameras that he’s definitely going to get some questions, but he’s too shaken to care. 

He doesn’t remember the first time he noticed that there were cameras around the garden, but at night he likes to stare at the red, blinking light in the corner so he won’t get too comfortable. 

By the time he’s scrubbed enough to feel like he’s past an impending anxiety attack, it’s 7:30. 

He scorches himself immediately, fidgeting around with the shower knob to find a compromise for his contradicting needs of not hurting his back and burning off the Gardener’s touches. Now that he has more access than a bathroom sink, Damien lathers himself up with the generic unscented body wash provided for him. Despite the burn, he even attempts to soap up his back a little, before retracting his hands under the fear that damaging the tattoo would bring the Gardener back to him. 

The thirty minutes provided for his nightly showers always seemed to pass to quickly but tonight’s period seemed especially short-lived. Damien wraps himself in a thin, gray towel to match the dreariness of the rest of the room, before he makes his way over to the bed and bends over to grab Sasha’s shirt, suddenly understanding why Sasha gave it to him. 

The shirt was for night s like tonight, when his body wasn’t his own and he needed to hide. 

He slips it on, both grateful for and perturbed by the open back that provides relief for his burning skin. Damien decides that the shirt is his new favorite thing that he owns in the Garden, and to focus on what feels okay, he slips on his favorite pair of trousers that he’s received thus far; straight-legged mid-rises that, unlike every other article in the garden, aren’t sheer or silky. 

He lies down on his bed, which actually has pillows now- dressed in signature gray pillowcases- and hugs his shirt closer to his body. He’s almost tempted to pull up the sheet and use that too, but he realizes how that will look when Sasha comes in the next morning and decides for the better that he shouldn’t.

_//”Why’re all of my pants black?” “The Garden only has black clothes, she says it makes our wings pop more.”//_

Damien wakes up to find Sasha sitting against the wall next to his bed, examining his own fingernails, and he breathes out in relief, “Sasha.” Both men hear the vulnerability in Damien’s voice, but only one of them winces.

“How do you feel?..” Sasha inquires, taking a seat on the right foot of the bed, smoothing the fitted sheet out around him. 

Damien hums quietly, staring up at the ceiling, “Honestly? Like shit. I got a good night’s sleep for once though… thanks for the pillows. And the shirt.” 

“That’s okay, I wanted to help.” Sasha pauses to contemplate, eyes suddenly finding interest in his own thighs before he peers over to Damien, “I’m Sasha.”

“I’m Damien.” He knocks his chin down to his chest to eye Sasha, ignoring the pool of acid he can suddenly feel sloshing around in his intestines, turning his insides sour. 

Sasha‘s chest visibly bubbles with a brittle laugh that never makes it up to his mouth, “Well Damien, you didn’t take the brunt of it then.”

_How the fuck didn’t he take the brunt of it._

“Excuse me?” Damien can’t help the way his eyebrows quiver before they furrow completely, or how fast any expression of anger leaves his face once Sasha elaborates.

“The others got… more eccentric names. She says it makes us more memorable.” Sasha pays no mind to Damien’s outburst as he speaks, and he wonders if Sasha is used to tantrums by now, “Either way, I didn’t bring you breakfast this morning, cause you’re gonna come out and eat with me now. Hope you’re okay with that.” The small grin that Sasha offers to Damien flutters his heart, and serves as a reminder to Sasha’s undisturbed beauty, even in trauma. 

// _Keep your eyes closed when we go through the halls, okay? I don’t need you seeing that yet. //_

Fifteen minutes later sees the duo out into the hall, with Damien covering his eyes with his left hand and Sasha leading him gently along the Garden’s walkways by his right. “Is the Gardener with us, Sasha?”

“No, most days she’s gone, I assume she has a job. Something had to pay for all of this.” 

“So we’re alone in here?...” The knowledge that the Garden lacks its Gardener during daylight hours makes him jittery and fills him with questions, most stemming off of  _Why can’t they escape?_

“Not exactly,” Sasha stops, and pulls Damien next to him gently, “You can open your eyes now, Damien.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments, kudos, and/or ideas are appreciated!
> 
> Shout out to Juici_Xuxi for being my unofficial Beta reader.


End file.
